Eldeglast

"Let us begin." said Caliga Aggrailia, sitting on his throne and drumming his fingers on the elongated table, his other hand buried in his cheek. He adjusted his sword hilt with his knee and stared down the table at his comrades.

The meeting room was excessively ornate, with jeweled swords hanging from every wall and the panther's flag of Eldeglast hung along the wall. The western star was a star of Desecration, presently and the land was barren outside the window, the heat and light of the baking sun glistening through it. There was a great and merry clattering of pots and pans. Plates, forks and knives were passed around the table with lavish meats, turkeys, beef and lambs. The warriors made no attempt as civilization, while the politicians and their whores did their best to look presentable.

The whole time, Aggrailia kept his gaze fixated on a man with leathery skin and a grandfatherly smile. His robes flowed as if made of whisps of smoke. He carved into a turnkey with delicate fingers, weaving his utensils like a spider with a web. He smiled his grandfatherly smile to the whore at his side and cast a cursory glance at Aggrailia.

His smile faded.

"Averon Thenadriar plans to kill you, my lord," whispered Galia Aggrailia, Caliga's wife. She leaned forward and put her own slender hand on top of his. "Promise me you'll execute him in the morrow. Promise me that."

Aggailia put a gloved hand up to silence her. "I know where his loyalties lie, beloved," he whispered back, unable to wrench his eyes from Thenadriar, though Galia coveted his gaze. "He sides with the filthy Bwalans. If it were up to him they'd be at the heart of the Kingdom by now." Aggrailia's gloved hand tightened around his goblet. "I'll bet he's already poisoned my wine."

At this Galia gasped, drawing a hand to her breast and sinking back into her chair. "If you're so sure then why is he at your feast?"

A smile touched only Aggailia's lips. "I have my reasons." he said.

He jumped up out of his seat and shouted so that his voice filled every corner of the room. "A toast!" he shouted, raising his goblet of wine. "To my wonderful . . . loyal subjects.He drank, and as droplets of wine spilled onto his beard he locked eyes with Thenadriar, and he with him. A smile found its way etched across Thenadriar's face and in unison the party put down their goblets. Thenadriar, his whore, and two men beside him smile.

Aggrailia leaned forward, resting both hands on the table and sneered at Thenadriar. "A wonderful thing cyanide is, isn't it, Thenadriar?"

Thenadriar's smile vanished, as did his comrades'. The three crumpled in their chairs and exhaled one last time, their eyes staring emptily into space.

The room was abuzz with questions and conversations. Aggrailia's voice was a knife that lacerated the air. "A word of advice. Next time you try to poison me I suggest you do one thing: make sure you do not do it in my own castle where all my servants are there to see you." His brow cut into a V shape and he exited the room, throwing back the chairs of the three traitors as he did so.